How Germany Got His Scars
by Redpassion02
Summary: This is my story on how 2p Germany got those nasty scars on his arm. First fanficton! hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: i do not own hetalia or any of these characters, all rights go to thier rightful owners.


Luciano loves blood. There is nearly nothing in this world he craves more than that crimson substance. To him, it was beautiful. One of his ultimate dreams is to paint the whole world in pretty red blood. He craves to inflict pain on others. But there is one thing that the sadistic Italian loved as much, or perhaps more than pasta and that red, glistening bodily fluid.

Smokey grey clouds overcast the sky one rather chilly, fall afternoon. Nearly every day, Lutz and his cunning Italian boss Luciano sneak into an abandoned warehouse to train, and today was no different. A small, plump mouse was scurrying around an old, wooden crate. But alas, the tiny creature never got the chance to make it all the way around, for it was struck at the heart by a small dagger effortlessly tossed by the gloved hand of a cruel Italian. It made a shrill squeak before it was pinned into the crate by the sharp blade. "You see? Just like that!" instructed Italy. Germany nodded. Knife throwing wasn't in his style, whips and guns were more his weapon of choice. But Italy didn't care, so he brutally trains him until his skills were as good as his. The German scanned the filthy warehouse until he spotted another tiny rodent. He chucked a small dagger at it. The rodent made a mad dash and disappeared into a small crevice before it could live the same fate as its little friend now lying motionless against a wood crate smeared with its now faded, dry blood. Lutz muttered a German curse and turned to his mentor, who clearly wasn't pleased since this was the about the 5th time Germany has failed him today. Luciano didn't know why he sucked at knife throwing so much, to Italy, it was second nature. After all, he was impatient and very hard to please. The now angry Italian was grinding his teeth, yet somehow managed to choke back a tsunami of Italian insults and curses, so to not give away their secret training ground. Stress stuck the German hard. Judging By look on his unforgiving, boss' face, he was in for some horrible punishment when they head back to headquarters soon.

To Germany's dread, the two men were back at headquarters before long. Their headquarters consisted of an old, abandoned mansion near the warehouse. Basically, they lived in a ghost-town. They were now in a rather large dining room that clearly hasn't been cleaned out in years, or perhaps centuries. Italy made something special today, it was a combination of his two most favorite things in the world: blood and pasta. He held out a plate in each hand. To the eye, it resembled ordinary spaghetti and tomato sauce. But both men knew exactly what was in the seemingly innocent Italian dish. Luciano had a sadistic grin on his face, he knew how much Lutz hated this special "treat". Placing his little surprise in front of where Germany was waiting patiently, he settled into his tall, wooden chair across Germany and placed his in front of him. Luciano's magenta eyes seem to burn with unreadable emotions. He looked like he had some desire, a longing, and a bit of…lust? It was now obvious that the Italian was planning to inflict something terrible on the tall, blonde, German man. Said German looked down on his plate. He would've much preferred potatoes and wurst over this tangle of noodles and blood. Hesitantly lifting his silver fork, he half-heartedly spun it into a bundle of pasta making a disgusting squishing noise. He glanced over to the pretty Italian. Said Italian was happily pigging out on his meal and was nearly done while the man opposite from himself hasn't event touched his food nearly puked a soon as he could taste the coppery coldness of the pasta, which didn't go unnoticed by the man who worked hard to collect all the er, ingredients sitting across from him. The awkward silence was broken so suddenly, the shy man nearly jumped from his seat. The owner of the voice sounded way more cheerful then he should've been. "Ve~? Do you-a not like what I made for you?" the tough Germans heart sank. Ga! He found Luciano's rich Italian accent so darn adorable-and hot. He looked up to see the smaller man with the empty plate littered with blood, witch resembled sauce making direct eye contact with him with glowing now bloody red eyes. While keeping eye contact, he lifted the plate at lip level and lapped up every last bit of blood. Lutz felt his cheeks begin to burn. Luciano set the plate down once again. He propped his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers in front of him and rested his sharp, slim chin on them. "After the past-a several weeks I've seen non improvement whatsoever," he began. "Why is that?" This was followed by silence. Germany had nothing to say, he was preoccupied with trying to hide his cheeks that were flushed with the Italians' favorite color. Luciano wasn't surprised, he wasn't expecting an answer. "Nothing to say huh?" he pushed, still not expecting an answer. And he was right, he knew he wouldn't be able to get anything out without a little force.

"Alright then," he looked up at the much larger man menacingly. "You leave-a me non choice but to punish you." He finished. His heavy seat loudly skidded against the rundown, hardwood flood as Luciano stood up. The German gulped, he knew he wasn't going to get away unharmed this time. He looked down in submission and shame. Lutz heard sudden quick footsteps, but before he had time to amylase the source, he gasped and found that his pale neck was suddenly exposed and ready to be slit at any time by a small, silver knife held sill and steady by a familiar Italian. "Are you-a just going to sit there while I cut up your throat?" scoffed Luciano. He found great pleasure in dominating another man much stronger and more physically capable than himself. Somehow this made him feel like an almighty god ready to pass judgement on a fellow disciple. And Lutz was now in nothing but the mercy of his "God". Luciano teasingly made sawing motions against his captives' vulnerable throat with the blunter side of the shining blade. Italy was struck by sudden confusion and sudden guilt when he realized what he was doing- or rather, what he _wasn't_ doing. If it would have been anyone else against his vicious rath, they would've had their throat slit, blood gushing, no questions asked. But not Lutz. Something was keeping the usual cold Italian from simply murdering his useless companion. He attempted to push these unwanted emotions aside and violently took hold of Lutz' right forearm. The startled German reacted to this by looking up at Luciano questioningly. Both men made brief eye contact and magenta met pinkish blue pools glazed with lust. But the German felt blood rushing to his cheeks as he quickly averted his eyes in embarrassment. But as soon as he did that he yelped in an unmanly matter because the cruel blade was gliding down his restrained forearm, leaving a trail of dark crimson in its wake. A sadistic grin cracked Luciano's slim face as the long wound began releasing the crucial bodily fluid. "Care to-a explain to me why you lack so much skills?" he asked for the second time as he took a second agonizingly slow, deep slice into his pale, muscular arm. But Lutz' only response was ragged, pained grunts. Now growing very impatient, he positioned his bloody blade to the same arm ready to make a final reminder as to what happens when you disobey Luciano.

"B-because… _Ich liebe dich_!" spat out Lutz in his native lounge. "What is that?" questioned Luciano, at last making a final flesh wound that was there to stay. He smiled upon gazing at his beautiful, crimson masterpiece of Lutz' now mutilated, bloody arm. Lutz took a deep, frantic breath before letting the black cat out of the bag. "I can never concentrate during training because _I love you dammit!"_ he practically shouted. Luciano was taken back, he now realized that he felt quite the same way. For a couple intense, silent seconds both men (even Luciano) had flushed red faces. Luciano couldn't take it anymore, so he did something Italians do best: he took Lutz' broad face into his black, gloved hand. They looked very deeply into each others souls before at last, the smaller, yet dominant man closed his eyes, leaned in and tilted his head until their lips crashed into each other. Lutz' eyes widened in shock after this sudden turn of events, but soon closed his eyes as well and melted into the passionate kiss. It was so hot and desperately needed and it felt so natural. It was crazy how they had no clue before, just how much both parties have been wanting this for a very long time. But that didn't matter now, in fact nothing did. They simply wanted to share this first intimate moment together while they still could. Italy tasted like pasta, wine, and…blood. Meanwhile Germany's cavern tasted of German beer and cigarettes. They both had something in common: both are very _addictive_ , like Lutz. Luciano finally broke the kiss, he had something to say. "Ti amo, Germany." He confessed even he had already made that quite obvious. His usual sadistic expression returned on his face. "Don't think I'm going to hold back on training just because I have feelings for you know." He chuckled.

Even when two each held dark, tragic histories and secrets, they were still capable of something that was quite misunderstood and mistaken as weakness, and that something, was love.


End file.
